All is Fair in Love and war
by No Longer a Phan
Summary: After the end, Erik dies mystirously. Then some soldiers demand to take Christine away, but is Erik dead?
1. The Death Note

Disclaimer: no money has been made off of this. oh well- No one would buy it anyway.

…

"Miss Daae, quite the performance-"

"Yes! Splendid indeed-"

"My greatest compliments-"

"Yes yes yes, she hears you all, now go away and leave her in peace!" Madam Giry yelled at the screaming crowd as she closed the door. "They never do shut up, do they?"

"Not that I know of," Christine agreed, "thank you, Madame Giry." Madame Giry nodded.

"Your performance was very good," Mme Giry assured her, "thee managers will be pleased." Christine's eyes clouded.

"Not so long ago you simply would have said he," Christine sighed. Madame Giry was silent.

"Wherever Erik is, e will be pleased to," Mme Giry said after a moment. "Now, you need some rest. If you need anything, just give me a call." Christine nodded, then turned to face mirror. Mme Giry wanted to say something else, but swallowed her words and left, leaving Christine to her thoughts.

Christine stared into the mirror in a state of thought. Her mind hummed to the ebbing tide of fading memories. So much had happened so long ago, it had all began to fuzz out. Numbness had set in, with only a reminiscence remaining. Christine stroked the mirror, as if it were the memory that she possessed of the Phantom, of Erik.

In the crack between the mirror and its frame, unnoticed by Christine, was a letter. It was written addressed to Christine in scrawling red ink, as if not a pen was used but the tips of burnt matches. In the silence, it begged to be read, like the minds of so many lonely people in a large crowd.

It was then that Christine's hands came upon the letter. She gasped, and plucked it from the crack. Her skin prickled uneasily, and her stomach churned. _What's going on?_ She stared at the red ink, then with a sudden urge to know, tore the envelope open. Inside, there was the letter. Her heart pounding in her chest, Christine slowly unfolded the letter (careful to note how it was clumsily folded). It read as follows:

_Christine-_

_Please come. I am dieing and want to see you one last time._

_Erik_

For a moment, Christine didn't move. Then, without getting on a coat, nor reading the letter over so much as twice, she simply left through the mirror.

Why didn't Christine think twice? This question may never be answered, for the reason could have spanned from love to fear. But she didn't think twice, and I believe that is important. She trusted the Phantom, after all he did.

As she descended, the air got colder and the ceilings dripped more and more. The ghosts of Opera singers long since past lingered in the very air Christine breathed. Christine, armed in no more than a skimpy dressing gown, bravely descended even though every thought in her mind told her to go back. She didn't have time, not if she was going to see Erik one last time.

As Christine picked her way down the sinking arch, cold turned to tundra. By the time she caught sight of the lake, it was as if death itself had made the Phantom's lair its' own, unlike the eerie warm of the Music of the Night or the fiery fury of her final visit. Christine broke out in a cold sweat, hoping that this omen didn't mean she was to late. Her heart rammed against her chest, and she had to take it in her hand to silence it. She glanced around, trying to get a grip on her surroundings.

And one of her glances darted upon the figure of a man lying crumpled on the ground.

…

After note: the taking her heart into her hand is a detail from the book. just soz ya know.


	2. And what does he get?

Disclaimer: If words equaled money, I'd be rich. But alas, they are not.

Christine rushed over to the figure. Part of her was hesitant to go over to him, but not enough to keep her away. There Erik lay, scarred side to the floor, curled up silently. Christine sank to her knees and bent over him, but Erik made no response. He just kept staring ahead, unheeding to her presence.

"…Erik?" Christine whispered, gently touching the shoulder of his damp suit. Erik hardly responded at first, only flicking his eye up to see who it was. When he discovered it was she, he began to rise slowly, hiding his face with one hand and beginning to push himself up with the other.

"Ch-Christine?" he began, "is that-" he never finished, because his body was seized by a spasm. He wrenched together again into a ball, his face contorted in pain. His body twitched and jerked, shivered and shook. Sweat beaded up on Erik's brow. His arms rapped themselves around his stomach and his hands clawed at his suit, as if it would get rid of the pain.

After a minute, the spasm subsided. Erik's body untensed and loosened. His teeth unclenched and he lay there gasping.

"Erik…" Christine began again, but found herself unable to finish. Erik had been alone, suffering in silence, until he somehow managed to get the note to Christine. _He must have swum all the way from his lair to here_. Christine shuddered at the picture of Erik's head bobbing just above the surface of a freezing cold lake, struggling to stay afloat with one hand and clutching his face with the other.

"I'm alright," Erik rasped, "That one wasn't too bad. Either way, it's good to see you- I wasn't sure you'd come." Christine didn't have to ask what he meant. Had Raoul found the note, and not she, he would have forbade Christine to come, fearing it was another ploy from the Phantom. Christine did love Raoul, and she also loved Erik. But she loved them differently. She wanted to always be with Raoul. But she didn't Erik to be alone. She wanted him to have someone to love, someone who would love him back. But she didn't want to be that person, for she loved Raoul deeply, and for it, a tear came out of her eye. _Erik had been denied everything. A home, love, even a mother's love._ Another salty diamond scuttled down Christine cheek.

Maybe she shed more tears, or maybe she shed none at all, for Erik didn't see them. Christine wondered if she thought herself so pure that the tears she believed she shed were merely a way to fool herself.

Or worse, she thought bitterly, she was trying to cry to get Erik's attention. _All is fair in love and war_, Francis Edward Smedley had said, but somehow, Christine didn't believe it was true. Not in love.

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Erik was sitting up now, staring at Christine. _She came… The Angel of Music came… Christine Came_… Erik was nearly crying in joy, but he stopped himself- he didn't want to upset Christine. Erik wanted her to be happy, and always had- that was why he had let her go.

Guilt assailed him. Why had he brought her down here, to his lair? Why had he told Christine he was dying? Why had he done it when he easily could have stayed on the other side of the lake, or worded the letter differently so she didn't know? It wasn't fair to put Christine through this. She was so pure… she didn't deserve to watch him die. Erik was sickened by his greed. So easily could he have drowned himself in the lake, or not told Christine to come, so easily could he have hung himself… so easily could he have-

Erik stopped himself before he delved into his past actions. Too much guilt was already on his soldiers. He needed no more now. Christine had come- he was better then the scum on the lake.

After a while, Christine stood up suddenly. Erik watched her in confusion and panic for a moment. Christine told him to sit in the boat.

"But what about you?" Erik asked.

"I'll be fine," Christine reassured him.

"Christine-" he began, but was cut off when Christine reached down to offer him a helping hand. Erik looked into Christine's eyes, and had no choice but to listen to his angel. He took Christine's hand and reluctantly allowed himself to be helped up.

It would have taken more effort to help up a quill. Erik had grown thin and frail, but still took most of his weight on his own feet. Christine bit her lip. _He really was suffering in silence._ Christine imagined living down, in the silence of solitude, in the darkness of a cave, in the loneliness of the night. No wonder Erik loved her- she had shown him kindness.

Why did he love her still? After all the trauma of the first mask pull, after loving Raoul, after the second mask pull, after _everything_,he still loved her. Christine felt awful. Erik was so… good, so naive, it was impossible not to pity him. _Erik deserved much more than me_, Christine thought, _and what does he get? Death_.


	3. The Music of the Night

It seemed to take an eternity, but Erik finally made it to the gondola. Erik began slowly lowering himself down, not trusting his legs to go any faster. Just walking a few feet had been a superhuman effort for him, and weakness already made his legs tremble. It was as if little demons were tugging at Erik's legs, trying to get him to collapse. _After everything, between everything that has happened, to think- I could die from falling as I try to sit_.

Apparently, the demons of the night like the taste of irony, for at that moment, Erik's legs capsized. Everything blurred, and the silence cackled cruelly. Erik fought his feet to move, but to no avail. For a moment, he remained suspended between life and death, floating, falling-

But Christine caught his arm. Erik came to a sudden halt. He stared up at Christine. Erik cursed his legs and sat down the rest of the way. He leaned against the pillows he had placed in the boat for Christine so long ago. Erik wanted to offer the seat to Christine, but a look in those eyes told him not to. Part of him was guilty for enjoying the luxury of the pillows, but part of him was just relieved.

"Thank you," Erik finally gasped, still shocked. Christine had saved Erik so often- from darkness, from solitude, from himself- that he wondered why he was so baffled. This time, she had saved his _life_- if for but a few moments.

Christine took Erik's hand, and a spike of joy shot through his arm. Erik didn't breath, and his failing heart skipped a beat as if it were healthy and in love.

"You don't need to thank me," She whispered. A gentle breeze tickled Erik's back, and his hand was bathed in warmth from Christine's. He trembled with feelings he had forgotten for months. Part of him felt as if nothing could possibly touch him or harm him, not a single finger of negative intentions, while his angel was there. She reached out to grip his other hand

Shame filled him again. _This lonesome gargoyle_… Since when does good love evil? Since when does an angle bless a gargoyle? Since when is an innocent cursed at birth? At what point does an angel live in hell?

Without warning, swords dug into Erik's gut and arrows tore through his chest as a second spasm gripped him. Erik's muscles twisted and wrenched around, pulling off the very bone that held them. Hammers were beating inside his skull in an attempt to break it. Erik gripped his head and roared at it to be quiet. His body turned and turned in the boat, rocking it dangerously. His bones simmered his flesh, and his stomach clenched into an iron ball of flame. His very flesh split and monsters clawed their way in, consuming his flesh, his lungs, and his heart.

Finally the spasm subsided. Christine had pulled back and was fighting back tears. The spasm had been so sudden, and it had been so pervasive- it made Erik roar like he hadn't even when he had taken her from the stage of _Don Juan Triumphant_. Christine couldn't imagine what he was going through. Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks, but she choked them back, without even knowing why.

"Erik?" Christine asked after a moment. For a moment, fear gripped her. Erik moaned softly, his arms still around his gut. She felt like crying again, but still held her tears in.

Erik was weak. His heart ached, and couldn't afford to skip beats anymore. He could still breath, but only in fitful gasps, as if each breath he drew was a battle. Even though Erik could win those battles, he knew he could not win the war. _To spend so many years waiting for death, only to wish for life as I die._ _Can my greed ever be satisfied?_ Darkness plucked at his skin, begging him to come. _Help me say goodbye_.

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation, Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses_," Erik sang softly. Christine listened to the Phantom sing in wonder. His breath had nearly left his body, but he could still sing. _Erik really is the angel of music_. "_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor! Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…"_ and so it went on. A bittersweet taste filled Christine's mouth as the song went on. Sometimes, Erik's voice would open the heavens, as it charmed the shadows that closed in around them, as Erik's words had decreed.

Then Erik's voice would fall prey coughing fits, to the point where he couldn't breath. Erik fought through the coughing fits and continued, without missing a note. "_Only then, can you belong to me…_" Even when Christine thought it would kill him, Erik refused to stop, continuing his song tirelessly.

_Or maybe not so tirelessly_, Christine thought. Though Erik remained alive, his voice grew softer, until it was barely a whisper. "_You alone can make my song take flight…_" Christine had thought it was what Erik had called after her, until he sang, "_Help me… make…_" Erik's voice couldn't have been heard anywhere else, for so much as a breeze would make it impossible to hear. Erik struggled for each note, his lungs straining to a point they never had.

_"The music… of… the…"_ Erik managed to sing. He couldn't hear his own voice anymore. Only Christine's face had cut through the shadows, and even now she was but a ghostly image, fading into darkness. Erik tried to sing "_night,_" but no sound came out at all. He tried again, but silence was all that was left in him. A tear stung Erik's eye. _This is when the Angel of Music truly dies- when they can no longer sing_.

Christine gently took Erik's cold hand one last time. Her face cut through the darkness as she sang:

"_Night…"_ Flash! Erik saw the first time he took Christine down to his lair. Flash! The Music of the Night. Flash! Singing with her in the graveyard. Flash! Singing The Point Of No Return. Flash! The kiss. Flash! The present.

_And so my greed is satisfied. This is how I want to die_. Erik smiled for the first time.

…

Christine sat, holding Erik's limp hand. _And so the angle of music dies_. For a long time, she had wanted to part with Erik differently, to rewrite the past, singing with Raoul as a mob came to destroy Erik forever. She wanted to see him smile and to know he didn't hurt anymore. But not like this. Although she knew her demands were met, she couldn't feel any relief. Her heart quailed with grief at the death of an angel

At first, just a single tear slid down Christine's cheek. Before she knew what was happening she broke down, pressing her face into Erik's suit. She wanted him to rise up and comfort her, but Christine knew that it would never happen. _Never again_.

After what seemed like years of crying, Christine managed to calm herself enough to sit up. She stared at Erik, still somewhat unable to wrap her head and heart around it. Even as Christine felt her body quiver and shake, her body was numb. She simply stared at Erik, trying to hold herself together and not go down with him from a broken heart.

As Christine looked him over, she saw Erik's hand on his face. He never could forget it, not even as his death awaited him. Christine felt her hands move themselves, independent of her to Erik's limp, cold hand, and slowly took it off of his face.


	4. Erik is Dead

Disclaimer: If I were making money off of this I would be in Hawaii right now, not writing this stupid fic.

….

Mme Giry is a fine woman- she had a sense of pride that never deserted her, she always was unbiased, she never went back on her word and she had only lost her cool on three occasions during her entire lifetime; once during an argument with Erik, once during the moments after he stole away with Christine after _Don Juan Triumphant_, and once more in just a few seconds.

It had been just about half an hour since Mme Giry had left Christine in her dressing room. Raoul had sent for Christine, and since Firmin was to busy to be bothered, Mme Giry was told to get her. After some protest of being assigned a servants work, Mme Giry unwillingly went.

Mme Giry now stood in front of Christine's dressing room, composing herself for a moment, then calmly knocked on the door. Curiously enough, there was no answer. Mme Giry knocked again, and got the same response (or lack thereof).

This reaction was not what Mme Giry was used to, and being the proud woman she was, was quite offended. However, she kept her cool, and decided that Christine must be busy doing something. She began to knock rather forcefully on the door a third time, when one of her knocks opened the door.

This also took Mme Giry by surprise. Her hand still raised, she stared at the door, which stood ajar. She pushed the door open the rest of the way. _Christine's door open?_ The next thing that popped into Mme Giry's mind was _Erik_, but she told herself not to jump to conclusions. Still, even as she strode level headedly but cautiously into Christine's dressing room, her heart made such a racket in her breast that she feared it would be heard.

"…Christen?" Mme Giry called. She turned around, looking for Christine. _This is not a coincidence- I know it. Raoul sending for her then Christine missing._ The thought of Erik pried at her mind again, but Mme Giry put down the urge to access the situation to quickly.

The next moment, Christine burst in from the mirror in sobs and threw herself at Mme Giry's feet in a state of total breakdown. Mme Giry, taken by surprise, didn't lose her cool, or at least not yet.

"Oh Mme Giry! Oh oh…. It's horrible… oh…" Christine sobbed, "I- oh I can't- I couldn't- I- oh Mme Giry!"

"Christine! What happened?" Mme Giry demanded. Christine tried to say something but couldn't seem to get the words out. "Christine! Calm yourself, your hysterical!" Mme Giry snapped sharply. She almost instantly regretted her words as Christine's state of hysteria only worsened. _She is only a girl- be more sensitive_. Christine still couldn't seem to collect herself. "Christine-" Mme Giry tried again, but Christine cut her off.

"Oh Mme Giry, Erik is dead!" Christine cried, bursting into a fresh set of tears.

Mme Giry's mind reeled at this, and for a moment, she lost her cool.

"Erik? _Dead?_" Mme Giry stammered, echoing her thoughts. For several sickening moments, Mme Giry's mind clouded in a state of confusion. Her thoughts babbled and panicked. Her head throbbed as she tried to grasp the situation. However, part of her knew it was all too simple. "But _How_?"

"Oh Mme Giry! It was awful!" Christine managed to say between tears. Christine explained the whole story, from the note left in her mirror to the last note of the Music of the Night, and Erik's first and final smile.

For a moment, Mme Giry was silent. She understood the situation all too well. She wanted to say something, but Christine broke in.

"But after that… He looked _so_ peaceful… so I- I don't know why, but I- I took his hand off of his face and- and- and- _his face was healed!_" Mme Giry gasped and tried to say something, but nothing was to be said. Christine, however, continued. "Oh it was amazing! I never imagined what he looked like without the scar… he looked perfect!… but only after he was dead! It's so cruel! And no one will ever care…." Christine trailed off. Mme Giry knew she was right- no one mourned a murderer. No one cried for a Phantom. _It just isn't fair, but life is never fair. If it was, we would all be roasting in hell._

"_The angels wept to-night_," Mme Giry reassured her.

…

After note: the whole "the angles wept to-night" thing is from the book. That is why it is italicized.


	5. Had I been in your place

Disclaimer: Oh yes. I am making millions.

Oh come on you don't honestly anyone would pay me to read this? Give me a break.

…

It had been about fifteen minutes after Mme Giry had left to fetch Christine when Meg went in search of her. Meg knew her mother wasn't one to dilly dally or waste time, so when Mme Giry didn't return quickly, Meg began to worry. She had left once Raoul began to get impatient.

The Opera house was bustling with people in the levels near Christine's dressing room. Some were trying to get a drink while the rest were trying to get ready for the next performance. Those who were preparing were also trying to get those lollygagging around to do something constructive. Meg hated having to go through these pre-stress-stress crowds, but seeing she had no choice, made no complaint.

"Meg!" someone shouted. Meg whirled around to see Miriam, the stage manager. "Where is your mother?"

"I'm not sure," Meg said over the noise of the crowd, "she went to get Christine and hasn't come back yet. I'm looking for her."

"When you find her, tell her she needs to get the ballet girls ready!" Miriam yelled, "This is pretty strange! She's never been late before!" Meg nodded and continued picking her way though the crowd.

She was stopped by large, poorly groomed man. He seemed to have trouble standing, and his arms swayed from side to side. Meg wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of his stench.

"Hey baby," He slurred, "Wanna drink?" Meg recognized his odor- alcohol. the man lumbered a bit closer to Meg, who began backing away. Her mother had always come to her rescue at this point, but Mme Giry was nowhere to be found. "Come on baby, you know you wanna… Come on…"

"No sir… that's really quite alright…" Meg assured him, trying to get control of the situation, "now I'll be on my way…"

"R'lax, grrl… I got all dah time in the world… We gots all the time in the world…" He said with a smile. Meg gasped as she felt her back press against the wall. The man began to stroke her arm roughly. Meg looked for an escape, but there was none. The man began to lean forwards toward her, and his hand began to stray towards her breast-

Meg bolted. She ducked under the drunk's arm and ran through he crowd, just trying to get away. Her heart beat wildly, as if it were trying to escape itself. Even though the man had not pursued her, Meg continued running until she emerged from the crowd, still panting. _That was too close- who was he? No matter now._ Meg walked quickly to where Christine's dressing room was and opened the door.

Meg stared at the scene before her; Christine sitting on the floor sobbing and Mme Giry trying to get her to calm down. When Mme Giry saw her daughter, she went over to her and said,

"Meg, will you stay here with Christine?" Meg stared at her mother, then nodded. "Be gentle; Erik just died. He sent Christine a note, so she went down there, but by the end of their visit, Erik had died. Christine will probably tell you the rest- see if you can get her to calm down at all. Now, I must talk to Le Vicomte de Chagny. I'll be back in a few minutes. If anyone comes looking for me, just tell them where I am, ok?" Meg nodded again, still at a loss for words. Her mother nodded and left. Meg went over to Christine.

"Christine-" Meg began

"Oh, it was awful!" Christine sobbed, "Erik-" Christine tried to explain, but just broke down again.

"Shh… Mme Giry told me," Meg said. She disliked referring to her mother as Mme Giry, but it seemed more appropriate at the time. Meg sat down next to Christine. "I know what happened to Erik, and I'm sorry. I know it's terrible. It's just not fair to him, but then again, life wasn't fair to him either. At least he didn't die alone. You did a good thing, Christine, going down to see him, even after everything that happened- I don't think I would have been able to do it had I been in your place."

…

"What do you _mean_ she can't come right now?" Raoul barked, stomping his foot like a child who was sent off to bed without dessert.

"I mean just that, Monsieur Vicomte," Mme Giry replied coolly, "it's important."

"You are in no position to tell _me_ what is important," Raoul snarled angrily. Mme Giry raised her eyebrows.

"No? and why not, Monsieur?" Mme Giry asked calmly.

"Well- because-" Raoul started. He sighed. "Fine. Maybe you are. But _why can't she come_?" Mme Giry hesitated. She had a bad feeling about telling Raoul. Raoul didn't forgive Erik, of course, after the _Don Juan Triumphant _incident. Not without reason- Erik _had _tried to hang him as well as take Christine. _He just doesn't understand what Erik went through_. "_Well_?" Raoul demanded harshly. Mme Giry new by Raoul's scathing look that silence wasn't going to suffice, and neither were lies.

"It concerns Erik," Mme Giry said finally, wishing she could swallow her words.

"_What!_" Raoul cried. Without a moment's delay he ran off.

"Le Vicomte! Wait!" Mme Giry called, running after Raoul.

"_Wait!_ With that humbug Erik there is no time!" Raoul called back over his shoulder.

"Do not scorn Erik's name!" Mme Giry snapped angrily, "He let you go! And I assure you, had you been in his place, you would not have done the same!"

"He let me go after trying to hang me and steal Christine! I'm not about to let that bastard do it again!"

"You don't understand-"

"And what's not to!" Raoul screeched, "he's a twisted man with no ethics who likes Christine, and I'm not about to let him-"

"Monsieur, Erik is _Dead_!" Mme Giry cried. At this, Raoul stumbled forward in surprise, then once he was steady on his feet, whirled around. "He is dead Monsieur. No harm can come from him."

"The Phantom is… I mean… is he _really_?" Raoul asked in disbelief. Mme Giry winced- Raoul not only didn't even pretend to be upset, but he still called Erik The Phantom.

"Yes, Monsieur Vicomte, he is dead," Mme Giry sighed, "Christine saw him die, so-"

"You mean she _went down there_?"

"_Yes_, Monsieur Vicomte, Christine went down there. Erik left her a note. But by the time she got down there…" What was Mme Giry to say? She was careful not to mention the Music of the Night to Raoul when he came back up after the _Don Juan Triumphant_ incident demanding the whole story, so what was she to say now? _For Christine's sake…_ "By the time she got down there, she was too late. I found her in her dressing room in a fit of tears." This set an alarm off in Raoul's head.

"So you left her there _alone?_" Mme Giry shook her head.

"Meg came, and I told her to wait with Christine," Mme Giry assured Raoul, "So please, Monsieur, just wait until Christine is a little calmer, to go into her room. For her sake as well as yours." Raoul nodded. Mme Giry silently led Raoul the rest of the way to Christine's dressing room.

"Wait here, Monsieur, while check on Christine," Mme Giry instructed. When Raoul didn't argue, Mme Giry slowly opened Christine's door.

Mme Giry was both relieved and somewhat surprised to see Christine sitting calmly next to Meg. Christine sniffed quietly, and Meg looked up at her mother.

"Is something wrong?" Meg asked. Mme Giry smiled, despite the situation.

"No Meg, everything is fine, dear. Christine, Raoul wants to see you," Mme Giry said gently. Christine nodded, but made no audible response. Mme Giry quietly ducked out. _My daughter is amazing- I wouldn't have been able to calm Christine down that fast had I been in her place_.

"Monsieur Vicomte," Mme Giry said, "You may see Christine- Meg is still in there, though so mind your manners."

"Yes, Mme Giry," Raoul said quietly, and went into Christine's dressing room. Mme Giry felt a smile flicker over her face- no one argued with her when Meg was in the picture.

The moment passed all to quickly. Now that Mme Giry was done taking care of things, she found herself in a pit of despair. _Erik is dead and gone. And I didn't have a chance to say goodbye._ Mme Giry felt a lump well up in her throat, though she halfheartedly bit it back down. _Now is not the time for tears._ Mme Giry wanted to cry, but there was so much she would have to explain to Raoul and to Meg, and so much Christine would need help with. She wanted to give in, to let tears her flow, but she knew there would be no one to comfort her. If she gave in, she would be alone in the dark. _Just like Erik._

….

After Note: if you have a better chapter idea, just say so. You can message me if need be.


	6. It's Not Over Yet

Disclaimer: you think I'd still be working on this if I had a steady income from my previous chapters?

…

It wasn't so late, in fact. It was roughly 4 o'clock, and few days after the death of Erik. The whether had been fair, and the sun had come out every day since. However, this did little to lighten up anyone's hearts. Mme Giry had to resist crying for longer then she ever had to before in her, and Christine was still shell-shocked. Meg was confused and somewhat upset that no one stopped to fully explain things to her, but said nothing, knowing that both Christine and her mother were more upset than she was. Raoul was simply relieved that the man who tried to hang him did nothing to harm Christine.

Christine had kept coming to the Opera Popular, but she felt something wrong. She sang, but she couldn't help but cry every time she did. She heard no grace in her own voice, and every step she took on stage was heavy, even after being a ballet girl under Mme Giry for so many years.

Christine was fussing with the make-up director in her dressing room.

"_Honestly_ Christine, the crew had to redo your makeup about _15 times _during the second act! That's a lot of money in make-up, ya know." The make-up director snapped, "What's the problem?"

"Well I don't know!" Christine cried, "I'm not trying to-"

"Well try not to!" the makeup director demanded.

"Please! I just need-"

"Oh _you_ need! You need this you need that!" the make-up director screeched, "your no better than that bitch Carlotta! Such a complete self-centered _diva!_ Your-"

"Make-up director, that will be enough!" shouted a dignified voice. Both the make-up director and Christine whirled around.

"Mme Giry," The make up director protested, "Christine-"

"I SAID, that will be ENOUGH," Mme Giry snapped, "you may go." The make up director began to protest. _"Is there a problem, Monsieur?"_ The make up director shut their mouth and shook their head. "_then leave_." The make up director didn't argue.

"thank you, Mme Giry," Christine sighed weakly. Her head fell into her hand, and she felt tears prick her eyes.

"The make up director is always fretting," Mme Giry assured her, "though she seems a bit on edge to day…"

"Oh, Mme Giry," Christine sobbed, "will I ever sing again?" Mme Giry stared at her.

"_What are you talking about_?" Mme Giry asked, "Firmin and Andre are up to their ears in money from your success tonight!"

"It's not the same! I sing the notes but they are hollow!"

"Christine-"

"Mme Giry, I cannot sing. _The Angel of Music is dead!"_ With this, Christine broke down completely. For a moment, Mme Giry was furious at Christine- _It's like she thinks she's the only one who got hurt_. But the moment passed. "_It's over now, the Music of the Night…._ The Angel of Music is gone…"

"That's why it's so important you keep singing!" Mme Giry declared, "You are all that's left of Erik's legacy. If you stop singing, then he is gone forever. What Erik gave you is greater than any gift, and only you can pass it on. He gave you the Music of the Night, Christine, and it _is_ over if you never sing again. I know this is difficult, believe me, but you can't give up now. It's just not fair to Erik." Christine laughed heartlessly.

"It's just not fair… is it…_ All is fair in love and war_," Christine snarled, "Maybe it's true… It's the only way to justify Erik's thinking. You know it as well as I do." Mme Giry was enraged.

"_How could you say that after all he did for you!_" Mme Giry screeched, "He gave you the Music of the Night! He taught you everything! He tore his heart out for you! Maybe the make-up director was right in saying your just like Carlotta! She may have not started as a ballet girl, but at this rate, your going in the same direction she did!" Mme Giry went to the door.

"Mme Giry, wait-" Christine began.

"_Your part is silent, little toad!_" and with that, Mme Giry slammed the door.

…

_I gave you my music… made your song take wing, and now, how you've repaid me: denied me and betrayed me…_

"Christine?" Raoul said. Christine whirled around in surprise. "Christine, are you all right?"

"Yes…" Christine began. _So distorted, deformed it was hardly a face in that darkness… darkness_… Christine couldn't take it anymore, and, once again, broke down. "I can't believe myself! When I get upset I just can't control myself and I say awful things! Mme Giry is right… I am no better than a toad…" Raoul was about to say something, but Christine cut him off. "Don't be angry with her, Raoul… I blew up at her… then she yelled at me… Oh! What a day this has been…"

"Let's go home, you need some rest, Christine," Raoul said tenderly. Christine didn't protest. She was simply to weak say no. Raoul helped Christine up and began to lead her out.

They hadn't gone too far when they were stopped by a group of soldiers.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, Madame," one soldier grunted (which, I should note, in a very not French accent), "But I'm afraid Miss Christine Daae is coming with us."

…

After note on the last after note: what I meant was a better name for that chapter, and the same thing goes for this one

After note on this chapter: how do you spell popular as in Opera Popular?


	7. Attack

Disclaimer: The soldiers are mine. The rest is Gaston Leroux's or Andrew Lloyd Webber's.

…

The soldiers now in front of Christine and Raoul were not part of the French military, as could be seen from a patch on their arm- it was a personal coat of arms from a man, which neither Raoul nor Christine had seen or heard of. However, neither of them were looking at this patch, so neither of them would have recognized anyway.

"Oh really?" Raoul challenged, "May I ask why?"

"We prefer not to speak of it ourselves," the soldier said gruffly, "But as I said, Miss Daae is coming with us." The soldier began extending a hand to Christine, but Raoul batted it away.

"But nothing," Raoul growled fiercely, "Why are you here? Why do you want Christine? Who sent you?"

"We shall not speak of are master," the soldier snapped, "Now hand Christine over and _no one gets hurt"_ Christine didn't like the sound of that. Raoul put an arm around Christine, pulling her closer.

"I am not handing Christine over to a bunch of rag tag soldiers like you," Raoul said calmly.

"Oh we're rag tag?" another soldier snarled, "who forgot to cut his hair? Now hand her over or-" He never finished, for at that moment, Raoul punched him in the nose quite forcibly. Within moments, the whole group of soldiers attacked Raoul like a pack of dogs. Christine stumbled back with a cry as the scene unfolded itself before her eyes.

Raoul was surrounded on all sides. He was trying to reach his sword, but a pair of soldiers scrabbling with him made it impossible to. The rest of the group had fanned out around him, and had their swords drawn. One was already sneaking up in back of him, waiting for the opportune moment (yay! Pirates of the Caribbean!). As Raoul struggled with the two soldiers, his back became exposed. The solider sneaking up on Raoul smiled and lunged.

"Raoul, watch your back!" Christine cried. Raoul whirled around in surprise, his footing loose. His foot caught the lunging soldiers front foot and made him stumble with his sword still outstretched, still trying to find a target anywhere on Raoul. He stabbed his sword at Raoul in a final attempt to kill him-

It stabbed his leg.

It may have been hardly larger than a nick, but it was enough. A nick in the arm is enough to make it impossible to fence with (asterisk), so when one's body weight is on their leg, a stab can have profound effects, Raoul gave a cry of agony as his legs collapsed under him.

"_No_!" Christine screamed, but no one heard her. The group of soldiers pounced on Raoul like a lions on a wounded deer. Raoul kicked out with his good leg and struggled to get free. Christine felt helpless as hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched Raoul fight for his life, as well as her own.

"_Hey! Someone get the girl!_" Christine heard one soldier shout. At once, three men leapt off of Raoul and started toward Christine. "_No you fools! Only one needs to get _her!" But it was too late. Raoul had already gotten back up on his feet and could almost draw his sword. Two of the soldiers went back to fighting with Raoul, but one kept going at Christine. He smiled and drew his sword, pointing it nonchalantly at her neck, and smiling with teeth as yellow as canaries where he had teeth at all.

"You're coming with me, missy," he sputtered, gently pressing the sword against her exposed neck. Christine gasped. "Hee hee… The capt'n told us to get the girl who sang with the devil, who kissed the devil, so we asked him, _who?_ And he said Christine Daae, n' that's you." Christine didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed at the blade at her neck, her heart pounding. The soldier began slowly twisting the blade around, catching her skin painfully. "You kissed the devil, so right now I could-" the soldier suddenly dropped his sword and began clawing at a rope his throat.

"_You do this!"_ he gurgled at Christine, _"kill her- ngggg! Hekkchdh…_" the rope went limp. The soldier crumpled to the floor lifelessly. Christine stared wide-eyed at the dead soldier, gasping. She had only ever seem one other dead man- Joseph Bouquet. They both had the same expression on their face, clueless, angry and full of fear. They both died from strangulation by lasso. _But whose?_ Christine took a sharp breath. _It couldn't be!... could it?_

…

Asterisk- this is why the whole fight scene after Erik nicked Raoul's arm in the movie is entirely impossible. They just wanted an excuse not to sing, so they stuck in a dumb sword fight. Hey, I fence and my fencing coach knows everything, so I would know. He was talking about it a week or two ago.


	8. And the Punjab Lasso flew

Disclaimer: The soldiers are mine. The rest is Gaston Leroux's or Andrew Lloyd Webber's.

…

Raoul was surrounded, and he knew it. He leaned mainly on his good leg, but he knew he couldn't keep it up much longer. _It's only a matter of time_. His bad leg tensed, and his good leg began to sag. Raoul winced as pain needled up and down his bad leg. _I won't let you get Christine!_

Suddenly the whole group of soldiers attacked him again. Raoul brandished his sword and began defending himself. _Lunge! Recover, parry, repost, parry, retreat!_ His mind spat out orders as fast as it could go, but it was not fast enough. Reposts were replaced by retreats, lunges by parries.

Then Raoul got careless, striking out whenever he could, desperate to save his own life and Christine's. It earned him a nick on the cheek and lost him a lot of ground and energy. He stood facing one of the larger soldiers with their sword upraised. Raoul's arm trembled with the effort it took to hold his own sword. He caught a flicker of movement out of his eye-

_And the Punjab Lasso flew!_ Raoul felt his heart skipped several beats. He remembered all to well the last time it flew- right around his own neck. The Punjab Lasso could not have been mistaken for another lasso- it was an ordinary rope, but it had been dyed red. The soldier clawed at his neck for a moment, then dropped dead. _But the Phantom-  
_

It was then a man in a black suit went into battle. He punched one soldier in the face, then whirled the Punjab Lasso around another. The whole group of soldiers stumbled back in surprise. Within moments, the man in the black suit had taken down three other men with the Punjab Lasso. As he did, Raoul saw something completely unmistakable.

The Phantom's mask.

"I thought you were dead!" Raoul cried. He jabbed his sword at some oncoming soldiers.

"I did too!" Erik shouted back. Erik and Raoul made quick work of these men. Raoul had recovered enough his strength to fight and kill a few, or at least distract them so Erik could throw the Punjab Lasso. As Erik began strangling the last soldier of the wave, Raoul saw his chance. When Erik finished his work, Raoul pointed his sword at Erik.

"What are you doing?" Erik snapped.

"Oh, you practically hang me and we're the best of buddies? Listen pall," Raoul hissed, "I don't trust you- _the enemy of my enemy is not my friend_."

"How bout the enemy of your enemy _who just saved your life_?" Erik retorted, "I'm not fighting on your side anyway- I'm fighting on Christine's side." This sent an alarm off in both men's heads. _Christine!_ Erik and Raoul both ran over to her.

"Christine! Are you all right?" Raoul asked her. She nodded, unable to bring herself to speak. Erik stood off to one side, looking extremely agitated. He fingered the Punjab Lasso, tempted to make the same mistake twice.

Both Raoul and Erik looked up when they heard the distant sounds of marching. Off in the distance, a second wave of soldiers was approaching. Erik tightened his grip on the Punjab Lasso, and Raoul's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. Erik's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the soldiers. Then they went wide in shock.

"They have guns!" Erik breathed. Raoul had seen them too. Christine didn't know what to do, and, to her own dismay, both Erik and Raoul were still working at the conundrum themselves.

Then they acted on instinct. Each believing they were stronger than the other, Raoul and Erik each grabbed one of Christine's wrists simultaneously. When they realized the other had done the same, they glowered at them angrily from the other side of Christine.

"Let go of her!" Erik barked.

"No!" Raoul snapped, "I'm about to hand Christine over to you!"

"Raoul you fool your too _weak!_" Erik cried, "For goodness sake they stabbed you in the leg!"  
"And yet I still stand!" Raoul snarled.

"Oh come on, you won't be able to run that far! Let Christine go!" Raoul shook his head.

"I'm not handing over Christine to the man who nearly hung me!" Raoul hissed.  
"_Stop thinking of yourself for once and trust me!_" Erik exploded. Time slowed as the two men looked each other in the eye. Raoul wanted to attack the Phantom, to take Christine and run so that the soldiers wouldn't get her and the monster wouldn't get her. Raoul's grip on Christine tightened.

Exhaustion nagged at Raoul's legs. Erik was right- he wouldn't be able to run far. But trusting The Phantom with his most prized possession was beyond Raoul. _Is that all Christine is? A jewel?_ Raoul knew he had been foolish. He was so obsessed with himself that he forgot what he was fighting for. The thundering steps of the next wave of soldiers pounded in Raoul's ears. Erik stood fuming on Christine's other side. Pain coursed through Raoul's wound. He let go of Christine.

"_Go!"_ both Raoul and the head of the army shouted at the same time. Erik's other hand gave a twitch and the Punjab Lasso flew once again. With one fluid movement, Erik gripped Christine's waist and tugged the Punjab Lasso in such a way that hoisted him and Christine up into the catwalks, bullets zooming where he and Christine were just a moment before.

Raoul's leg gave out again as lightning struck it as he watched Christine and The Phantom disappear. Soldiers swarming around him shooting their muskets while his leg was consumed by fire, Raoul could only hope he made the right choice.

…

After note: WEE! FENCING! Chapter names are always good suggestions.


	9. Trapped

Disclaimer- NOT MINE

…

"_Go!"_ Raoul shouted. Christine felt Erik put his arm around her waist, and sensations rippled through her. Suddenly everything blurred as she began flying upward. Christine looked at Erik in surprise, then back down at Raoul. His legs were slumped on the floor as he stared after her with teary eyes. Soldiers were all around Raoul, shooting at Erik and her, but falling short. Raoul quickly became just a tiny dot surrounded by a mass of other dots as Christine flew upward.

Christine looked at Erik again. His black eyes were fixed on the catwalks above, but something seemed different about them. She stared into them, but she knew those eyes and knew they looked the same. Then it hit Christine- they were clear. Not full of tears, nor clouded with anger or confusion, but hard and clear.

Erik and Christine finished their ascent to the catwalks. Erik gently lowered Christine down onto them before jumping off the Punjab Lasso lightly himself. Then he took the lasso and gave it a flick so it came free of wherever it had been around. _Who knew the thing that nearly killed Raoul could save my life?_

"That little trick should give us a few minutes lead," Erik said calmly as he began coiling the Punjab Lasso. No sooner had he said this then the _chick-tak!_ of the loading of a gun was heard. Erik seized Christine's wrist. "Run!" Erik whispered, leading her down the catwalk.

Gunfire suddenly filled the air as Erik and Christine walked into an ambush. A semicircle of men stationed around them all started firing at once. Erik grabbed Christine and dropped to his knees, throwing his cape over her for protection. Under Erik's cape, Christine pressed herself against Erik's chest in fear. Christine felt her head spin. She couldn't see what was going on around her, she couldn't tell where the shots were coming from, she didn't know anything. Christine was too terrified even to scream. Bullets zoomed past her and Erik and the sound of the mini explosions surrounded them in a web of convolutions

Erik knew they couldn't stay. But there was nowhere to turn. The only place free of bullets was to his back- but there were no catwalks for over 500 yards either. If he would even be able to cross it on the Punjab Lasso was the question, never mind land and continue running. But it was their only chance- he knew it even more so as he heard the approach of footsteps through the gunfire. Erik looked around. Several soldiers began waddling towards him in crouching positions, ducking their head so as to avoid the line of fire. They held their muskets cocked and ready to fire. Erik held Christine close. They were trapped between a musket and the abyss of an Opera house.


	10. Musician's hands

Disclaimer- NOT MINE

…

Christine held herself against the phantom beneath his cape blindly. She embraced him and prayed that they wouldn't die. Erik had gotten her this far- he just had to keep going. Christine felt him tensing and un-tensing. _Oh god, don't let me die like this!_ Christine felt Erik pull her close.

Then she was flying again via the Punjab Lasso. Christine saw bullets zip just below her feet as Erik maneuvered them through the air. Christine was dizzy with confusion. Her stomach churned like butter, and she felt bile rise up in her throat. Christine's head swam as she tried to fight the bile back down. Christine felt her body begin to slide out of Erik's grasp. She tried to cling to him, but her arms didn't respond. _Not like this-_

A jolt of surprise went through Christine as she and Erik landed on another catwalk. She could still hear the soldiers firing at them. She also heard the approach of marching soldiers.

"_Run_!" Erik whispered again. Erik tugged her wrist, and Christine willingly followed. Behind her, the soldiers erupted in gunfire. Panic surged through Christine as she ran. The darkness and the sound dulled her senses- she felt vulnerable even as Erik led her through the catwalks. She kept seeing soldiers leap out of the darkness, then just as mysteriously vanish as she struggled to get used to the low light. Even so, Christine felt herself begin to relax, as the sound of soldiers grew softer.

Christine's arm exploded in pain. She lost her footing and fell onto the catwalks.

Her consciousness began to slip as the world around her darkened. She was dimly aware of Erik calling her name, and of the soldiers advancing upon them. A network of searing heat branched out from her shoulder, entangling her arm, chest and neck in a net of unending gunfire.

Erik's heart stopped when Christine was shot. For a moment, all the life in him froze. Then he came to right where he was standing and rushed over to Christine.

"Christine!" Erik cried, but she didn't hear him. Erik looked- more soldiers were advancing upon them, more soldiers with more guns. Erik's cape spilled over Christine as he crouched over her. He searched through his mental map of the catwalks, and tightened his grip on the Punjab Lasso. The soldiers raised their muskets, and began to fire.

But they were to late. Erik scooped up the half-conscious Christine and threw the Punjab Lasso before the first shot rang out. When it did, he was already several feet from he had stood. Had he stayed, he would have been dead.

Christine was aware she was moving again. She opened her eyes and saw Erik whirling around on the Punjab Lasso. Below them, soldiers tried in folly to hit him. With a twitch of his arm, Erik made a sharp turn and took them as far away from the soldiers as the Punjab Lasso would go.

…

Christine was aroused again when she felt Erik set her down. She opened her eyes and saw Erik bending over her, his face soaked in sweat. A jab of pain pulsed through her arm, and Christine groaned. She reached over to touch her arm, but Erik stopped her.

"Better not," He said softly, "let me." Christine slowly sat up, with Erik's help. She didn't look at the wound- Christine didn't couldn't bear to see her own blood. Erik tore a small bit of cloth of the bottom of her tattered dress and very gently tied it around her arm as a bandage. Christine stared at Erik- she could never have imagined him to be so gentle.

Even just stopping the blood flow made Christine feel considerably better. Both her vision and her mind began to clear, and the agony in her shoulder turned into more of a dull ache.

Christine accessed the situation. She was still on the catwalks, but there were no soldiers. Her sense of time was gone, and all she knew was that it was dark around her as well as in her mind. Part of her ached for Raoul's loving arms and part of her ached for light. Part of Christine was just relieved there were no soldiers and none of their gunfire. She was with Erik, so for now she was safe.

"What happened?" Christine asked.

"You had been shot," Erik explained, "Then some soldiers came. I got us out of there as fast as I could." Christine nodded, shuddering slightly. _Shot_. She had never thought about what getting shot feels like, but she couldn't have ever imagined it feeling like this. It was like a thunderbolt was lodged in her shoulder and it was struggling to get out. _Just like I am_.

"For the time being," Erik cut through her thoughts, "we need to stay put. We'll need cover of darkness to get out, and it's not late enough."

"How do you know what time it is?" Christine tried to grasp how Erik knew. He pulled out a pocket watch.

"Nipped this off of one of the soldiers while fighting with Raoul," Erik said with a mischievous smirk and a twinkle in his eye. But the smirk slipped from Erik's face, and the twinkle faded. It was replaced by exhaustion. "In any case, you need some rest. Get some sleep. I'll keep watch," Erik sighed. He leaned against a wall, offering Christine his shoulder to lean on. Christine willing propped herself up against him and almost instantly fell asleep.

Erik smiled. He threw his cape around Christine as a blanket, remembering the surprise in her eyes as he tied her makeshift bandage. He stroked Christine's hair.

"_Musician's hands,_" He whispered.

…

After note: Sorry for last chapter's cliffhanger! I would have continued on it, but it was 11:30. And forgive me for continuously quoting Pirates of the Caribbean. I just can't help myself. Chapter name suggestions are welcome! Review's even more so!


	11. When Erik's cape is around you

Disclaimer- NOT MINE

…

Christine awoke with her eyes closed. She felt Erik's warm cape around her, and heard only the whispering of silence. Her shoulder throbbed painfully as her memory returned. Surprisingly, she didn't feel scared- simply numb. _It was impossible to be scared when Erik's cape is around you_, she thought. Christine opened her eyes to the fuzzy darkness of the catwalks.

Christine turned her head to look at Erik. His eyes were open, but weren't fixed on any particular point. Erik looked at Christine. His eyes were tired and seemed distant. He turned his head back again, his eyes lost in the darkness.

Suddenly Erik glanced up. Christine's gripped his arm. He seemed to be listening to something. Then Christine heard it too.

"It's Raoul," Erik whispered. Quickly he and Christine stood up and followed the sound of Raoul's voice to the edge of a catwalk. The catwalk looked onto one of the stages of the Opera Populaire. And there on the stage was Raoul. Christine felt her heart swell with joy with the sight of him.

"I never thought I would be glad to see you Raoul," Erik laughed, a friendly smile on his face.

"I agree," Raoul shouted back up, "Christine, are you alright? Will you come down?"

"She can't go down," Erik cut in, "it's too dangerous. You know it is."

"So it is," Raoul admitted, "but how is she going to get out?" Erik thought for a moment.

"Raoul, can you get yourself out of here?" Erik asked. Raoul nodded. "Listen- you get yourself out of the Opera Populaire, and I'll get Christine out."

"What about you?" Christine asked Erik.

"I'll be fine," He assured her.

"Alright," Raoul agreed unwillingly, having heard none of this. Without further adieu, Raoul sped off. For a moment, Erik and Christine watched him go off.

Then in the distance she heard soldiers. Christine gasped in fear and looked around. Erik gently grasped her shoulders.

"They're on a higher level and they're not to close," Erik assured her, "don't worry. But we do have go." Erik took Christine's wrist and began leading her through the catwalks at a brisk pace, every so often glancing up.

As time progressed, Erik began looking up more and more often, quickening his pace as he did. He started taking sharp turns. Soon Christine could hardly keep up with him.

"Erik-" Christine began when a gunshot rang out. Christine whirled around in fear. Erik was right there beside her, holding her and draping his cape over her simultaneously. Looking up, Christine saw a soldier holding a gun in the air.

"This is a warning!" the soldier shouted, "Hand over Miss Daae now and neither of you shall be harmed!"

"Oh really?" Erik shouted back.

"Oh yes!" The soldier called, "your reward will be great!"

"I'm afraid your bargaining is with the wrong man!" Erik yelled, "Only Monsieur's André and Firmin would sell Mme Daae to you, unless they wouldn't profit! So save your francs and buy your own soprano!" Erik turned around and bolted with Christine.

"You're making a mistake!" the soldier roared, but Erik ignored him. "Ready? FIRE!"

Suddenly Christine's leg's ceased up as gunfire filled the air. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees.

"Christine!" Erik cried.

"I can't move them!" she gasped in fear, holding on to Erik's arms. Erik looked between the approaching landing spots of the bullets and Christine. Christine could hardly breath as she watched the bullets tare up the catwalk closer and closer to her-

Erik made his move. He scooped up Christine and threw the Punjab Lasso. He leapt off the catwalk with Christine with bullets dancing at his feet. Catching the Lasso the lasso and yanking it, Erik and Christine flew up to a small passage in the wall. Erik ran until he rounded a corner, then set Christine down.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked.

"I- I- I'm sorry Erik!" Christine sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I tried to run but I just couldn't!"

"It's alright," Erik said gently, stroking Christine's hair, "It's ok." Christine nodded, but her flow of tears continued. "Christine, what's wrong?"

"I- I don't know," Christine said, sniffing, "I just can't seem to stop crying. I was really… scared…" Christine felt her body trembling with tears. She felt sobs welling up in her throat. _I can't break down now!_

Erik brushed Christine's tears away. Christine looked up into his eyes.

"We're going to get through this, don't worry," Erik said firmly, "I won't let them take you." Christine nodded, still staring into Erik's eyes. They seemed more of a dark indigo than black. They studied her softly, lovingly. Then he said, "We have to keep moving. Can you walk?"

"I think so," Christine said quietly. Erik nodded and got to his feet, extending his hand to help Christine. She took it and got to her feet unsteadily, balancing on her legs shakily. Suddenly gravity worked its wonders on Christine and her legs gave way beneath her. Erik quickly caught her.

"It appears this is not so," Erik said, "But we still can't stay. I'll carry you." Christine nodded. Erik slid his hands beneath Christine and picked her up. He started jogging down the dark passage way.

Erik wondered if he had missed his last chance to win Christine. If all went according to plan, everything would fail all over again.

…

After note: a whole chapter without any references to Pirates of the Caribbean! Impressive! Chapter name suggestions welcome as usual. Reviews however are still preferred


	12. Stars

After about 15 minutes and numerous passageways, Erik set Christine down- he needed a break. He leaned against the wall, panting heavely. He seemed winded.

"Do you think…. you… can walk?" Erik asked between gasps.

"Yes, I think I can now," Christine said quietly. She had felt the trauma ebbing out of her body slowly as Erik carried her through the passages. Erik nodded, remaining silent. He swallowed after a moment, then spoke;

"Then we should get moving. Time is a precious thing, now more than ever." Erik reached down and helped Christine up- her legs held her firmly. Erik looked back lazily as the sound of footsteps began to buzz. "Ah. We might have company," Erik said. He gently took Christine's hand once again and began walking at a brisk pace, but even as they walked, the sound of footsteps only got louder, and was joined by some clatter.

"Erik-" Christine began, but was cut off when Erik took a sharp turn, revealing where the passage opened up onto some catwalks, threw the Punjab Lasso, grabbed Christine's waist and leapt up. The flight was short, and they quickly landed on some catwalks.

"THERE THEY ARE!" a soldier shouted, but before he could say "GET THEM!", Erik had already left with Christine. They swung down into the lobby of the Opéra Populaire, only a little ways from the door. Shouts and hollers came from the soldiers who had a much longer descent then they did. Erik and Christine dashed to the door.

But Erik couldn't bring himself to open it. He reached out his had, but it stopped, trembling. Christine wasn't aware of it, as she was concentrated on the soldiers. Erik pushed his hand toward the doorknob, but it fell short. Erik knew he needed to get outside, but he could deny it no longer- he was terrified.

Erik had never been outside. Never had he seen the light of day, nor the sky at night. All he knew was the Opéra Populaire. He had always been in his opera house, and had never left. He had opened many a door, but it had always led into another room- not into the great expanse beyond. He had seen blurry images of clouds when he looked at a window, but besides that he knew only the many passages and dark corners of his opera house.

But needed to get out now. Erik glanced at the advancing soldiers, at Christine, and at the taunting doorknob. It grinned wickedly, reflecting distorted images of the soldiers advancing. Erik's legs were frozen, and his hand refused to listen to him. Rush back into the shadows of his opera house was what Erik's instincts told him to do. Rush back into the darkness, into the loving, beautiful darkness, and forget the outside. Forget Christine, forget Raoul, forget the soldiers, forget everything. The same thoughts that shattered through his mind the night of _Don Juan_ shattered through him now. The door knob lay above it all, controlling Erik and the slow onslaught of soldiers. RUN! Erik told himself, RUN!

But now was not the time- he burst through the door with Christine and slammed it closed behind him.

And he was outside. It was relatively cold, but Erik was used to that. What was different was the way it was cold, the way the air felt. A gentle breeze stirred Erik's hair, sending unprecedented sensations through his scalp. He stopped running, letting go of Christine. Takeing in his surroundings along with a sharp breath, completely unfamiliar to him, Erik took several, slow steps. The outside was alien- yet familiar. Erik looked up to see for the first time the night sky.

He was puzzled by what he saw. The night sky was not pitch black like the air surrounding his lair, but dark purple and filled with little lights. _What are they_?

_Stars_…

…

"There they are sir!" The soldier said, pointing out the window, "the one you were looking for- the girl. They kid is there too, a little ways away from her."

"And the ghost?"

"What? Oh, I see him- he's right by the door," The soldier said. Unconcerned, he stared down through the window.

Suddenly he snapped back with a startled look. "Blimey! He's looking straight up! Reckon he saw us? Naw, he didn't- he's looking at the sky. Bloody fool- he's being hunted and he stares up into the sky. Can't believe they never caught him- he's a drunken bastard. Come on, let me give the boys the order- they can get him, and the girl too- they could even the kid, the victor or whatever. It would be easy! Capt'n Olric?" Olric stared down through the window. _There, out in the darkness- a fugitive, running_. The lieutenant was right, he thought, he is a bloody fool.

"Give the order, lieutenant," Olric said simply.

…

"Raoul!" Christine cried. She rushed over to him, down the steps of the Opéra Populaire. She didn't notice that Erik had stopped, but Raoul was waiting.

"Christine!" Raoul caught Christine in his arms, gently kissing her. "Christine! Are you alright?"

"Yes," Christine gasped, "Yes, I'm-"

A howl of pain ricocheted off of the walls. Christine and Raoul whirled around to see several soldiers bursting out of the building, and Erik grasping his head in agony, stumbling forward, before losing consciousness and crumpling to the ground.

"Erik!"

"We have to go!" Raoul hissed, "Christine, please!" Christine allowed Raoul to pull her away. Soldiers thundered behind them, but Raoul and Christine began darting down the stairs anyway.

However, they didn't get far before the soldiers overtook them. Raoul held Christine close. Christine pressed herself into Raoul, but she didn't safe.

…

"Hah! The ghost is down, Capt. Olric!" the lieutenant grinned wickedly, "Perfect- and now- bang! Just over took the vicort and the girl." Olric nodded with the disciplined pride of a commander- the soldiers had taken down the ghost. Now everything could go smoothly. He watched the small figure clad in black collapse with a cry of agony. _Fallen from grace_. An uncharacteristic smile flickered across Olric's features, a slack in his professional façade.

"It seems we must greet these two, now shouldn't we?" Olric said, confusing the lieutenant. "It would be rude to leave them out in the cold." The lieutenant furrowed his brow, then hit with realization, smiled.

"Yes we should," he agreed, "the boys can fix them up a little place to stay." The lieutenant laughed mischievously. "They could find a room for the ghost too-"

"No," Olric cut in, "Leave the ghost to me- _Those who fall must pay the price!_"

…

The soldiers encompassed Christine and Raoul, each with a loaded musket and a sword in their belt. The same soldier who had addressed them last time, with light brown hair and dull grey eyes, marched up to them stiffly. He tried to adopt an annoyed pose, but it looked more like he was sinking into a freeze-frame of a bizarre dance.

"We were nice last time," The soldier spat, "but we shall not be so now; hand Christine over!"

"Never," Raoul snarled, "Christine is not yours to take! I would never-"

"Shad ah-p!" one of the men roared slurredly, whacking Raoul in the back with the but of his musket. Raoul's expression set, and he fell to the floor unconscious. From his view of the window, Olric felt another flicker of a smile pass over his face, this time embedding itself. _And if you fall as Lucifer fell, you fall in flame._

"Raoul!" Christine screamed, but Raoul didn't rise. The soldiers began to pull her away, but Christine still struggled to maintain her freedom. "Raoul!" Christine's attempts failed and continued failing as she still struggled. "Erik! Raoul! Help! Erik! Raoul!"

Olric chuckled cruelly. Finally, the girl would be without her little friends- she would be his. He would get her, exactly the way he wanted. It was going to happen- he would make it happen.

"I swear she will never be yours," He whispered to the sprawled figure of Erik down below, "_This I swear by…_

_the stars_."

Ok, I promise more on the 25. That's as soon as I can because of some weird STUFF (cough) with a story that was a 'mst' or someat. More soon, I promise! So sorry! Just till Thursday!


	13. Twice

More, as promiced. Sorry that it's sort of a cliffie. I promice more soon!

Disclaimer- NOT MINE.

…

_Erik looked around. He was in a small, white room with small wooden door. It had a faint odor of claustrophobia. Curious, Erik tried to open the door, but it would not budge. Slightly dissapointed, he went back into the centre of the room_

_ Then the door knob made a sound. Erik whirled around, his heart pounding. Then in stepped Christine.  
_

_"Christine!" Erik cried, rushing over to her. He reached over to hold her but as he did she gave a cry of pain._

_"Stop!" she wailed, "please! For the love of Pete please!"_

_"But I…" Erik began, confused._

_"NO!" Christine burst out, "Your mask!" Erik reached to feel his mask, but it was still there. "Your mask is coming off!" Erik felt his mask again, but it was firmly in place._

_"Christine, I don't know what you're talking about," Erik said. He took a step toward Christine and gently took her hands, but she tried to pull away, and turned her head around as if to avert her gaze. "Christine…"_

_"Please," Christine whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks, "Please." Erik, still confused, once more felt for his mask. It was slightly loose, as if it was slowly crawling down his face. He reached up with one hand to tighten it uncaringly. When he was done, it only seemed to fall down lower on his face. Perplexed, he took both hands and secured the mask again, but it seemed to be sliding even farther down._

_"Don't take it off!" Christine begged fearfully._

_"I'm not trying to!" Erik gasped, "It just won't stay on!" Erik felt himself panicking as it slipped down his face even as he tried to stop it. His mask slipped between his fingers like sand through a sieve until it clattered onto the floor. It splashed across the floor, a shiney white liquid. Erik tried to pick up the shattered pieces of his façade, but the glass peices cut him. Christine screamed and ran to the wall, pressing her back into it._

_Then Raoul burst in enraged. He was tugging at his sleeves and was red in the face._

_"Get off her you monster!" he shrieked, throwing Erik to the ground._

_"Raoul-" Erik sobbed, trying to explain, but Raoul didn't hear him. He stepped in front of Christine and drew his sword, stabbing Erik in the chest-_

…

Erik snapped out of his nightmare in a sweat. For a moment, he held his breath, fearful of the air around him. He was on a hard floor, definitely made of some kind of metal, his face resting against it, eerily cold. Slowly, Erik took several shaky, heavy breaths. Feeling crept uncertainly back into his body like several deer, willing to scamper away at the slightest sign of danger. Arms were folded and legs askew from what Erik could make of the convoluted puzzle of limbs. Still a bit iffy from his nightmare, Erik knew he had to find out where he was. Unsteadily, and perhaps a bit prematurely, Erik pushed himself up-

He saw another Erik. Not one more Erik but a thousand Eriks. Not one thousand Eriks but an infinite amount of monstrous, despicable, hideous, macabre, awful, deformed-

unmasked Eriks.

Erik bolted upright and scrambled back on all fours toward the nearest wall, running away from all the Eriks. He turned to face the wall only to come face to face with another Erik. He jumped up and back, twirling around, as an infinite amount of other Eriks also moved away from him. Not one Erik but one thousand Eriks spun disoriented around him, making his state of confusion worsen. High-pitched music rang through his head, up and down like the spin of a crazy merry-go-round like it had not since the second 'mask pull'. Thousands of loathsome monsters, thousands of horrible beasts, thousands of repulsive carcasses, thousands of phantoms taunted Erik, thousands and thousands, millions and millions, reaching into the stretches of the unknown.

Erik slammed his back against the wall and forced his his eyes shut, still breathing heavily. The dark of closed eyelids was hardly an escape- he could only see his soul when he looked into that darkness. But now he needed an escape from his face, and what better way to escape physical features then through spiritual contemplation?

In other words, Erik needed to think.

Twice had Erik looked into infinity- the last thing he remembered, stars, and this right now. Twice had Erik beheld the endlessness expanse, into the overwhelming streach one end of the universe to the other. Twice, but now there were more phantoms than he could possibly bear to see.

But thank god for him, there was only one Erik. There were infinite stars, but only one Erik.

Erik cracked open an eye. If the stars were infinite and he was not, then these could only be reflections. He could not count the sides of this chamber, but if the pattern of his reflections was as he thought he saw it, then there was only one place he could be.

…

After note: a thousand Eriks? A PHANS PARIDISE! (…)

Ok whatever. Please review. You will all HATE me for the next chapter…. You can guess what it is if you've ever read the book. (Book phans: OMG NOOOOOO!)


	14. The Torture Chamber

Disclaimer: Not mine

For those of you who hate cliffhangers like 'trapped,' I urge you not to read this chapter until the next... say... two are done.

…

Olric brushed the dust off of his suit as he paused outside the door of the makeshift keeping chamber. Naturally, the ghost had been taken care of, now residing in a little chamber of his own devising. A small grin tightened the ends of Olric's lips, knowing the demoralizing effects a little smugness could have on a man such as the ghost. However, this chamber was not in the least for the ghost.

It was for Christine.

Nodding some soldiers off, Olric grimaced, reminded their crude methods of capture- they literally had to drag Christine away from her little chap, surely scaring her half to death. Olric knew better than to try and stop the soldiers at the time, but their actions would cost him dearly.

Still, there was one problem that nagged at him- when Christine was being so shamefully snatched away from the Vicompt (which none of the soldiers could pronounce), she had, naturally, screamed for him. But she also screamed for the ghost, whom she called by the name 'Erik.' It was troubling to know that Christine and the ghost were close, aware of how quickly any successful operation could fall from grace.

Olric shook free of his doubts. He decided to deal with his problems one at a time- Christine now. Ghost later. Looking over himself once more, Olric decided he was presentable. Bringing himself up to his full height, 5' 10", Olric strode Christine's keeping chambers.

Christine was sitting on a small, cot-like bed, her legs pulled up to her chest and ringing her hands as she looked up in fear at Olric's approach. Neither said anything for a moment as Olric closed the door. When the silence had settled, finally one of them spoke;

"Why… are you doing this?" Christine whispered, huddling against the wall. "Who are you? Why am I here?" Questions began spilling out of lips, out of her mind, hurling themselves almost accusingly at Olric. "Where is Erik?" Olric raised his hands and silenced her.

"I shall answer your questions," He replied calmly, "or as many that need to be answered for the time being. I am Rikard P. Olric. I apologize for the circumstances of your retrieval- mercenaries can be so disorganized and rash. Please forgive my carelessness, as I should have made my instructions more clear." Something glinted softly in Christine's eyes.

"…as for Erik?" Olric winced. He had tried to divert her attention, but if that was what she wanted… so be it.

"I will take you to him," Olric said darkly. "Come."

…

The torture chamber.

Some how, Erik felt a cruel laugh escape his lips. The torture chamber. _How Ironic_, he thought, _to be trapped in the torture chamber of my own design_. He had brought this upon himself, and he knew it.

_I knew better than to leave those papers lying around_. But when Erik thought, he realized they hadn't been. He had them tucked away in a portfolio with all his room designs, a black silk slip, embroidered in a fine, silvery thread with room design, consisting of a six sided shape- the torture chamber itself, in all it's sickening glory. Behind closed eyes, Erik scowled. He had literally displayed the work he wished to keep hidden... Ingenious. Stunningly ingenious.

Erik lowered himself to the ground and curled up on the floor, staring at the brushed metal, and couldn't help but smirk. _They went so far as to steal my sketches and didn't even build it right._ The design of the torture chamber was that all sides mirrored, even the floor and ceiling. These two surfaces, however, reflected nothing. Within the walls of the torture chamber, Erik was amazed to find that he had began to relax, his muscles un-tensing. His face grew accustomed to the air, and for a moment he swore he felt normal.

A scraping noise coming from above opened Erik's eyes and jerked him awake. A section of the Torture Chamber was being… _Lifted?_ Of course. The window. The Rosy Hours in Mazenderan began comeing back to Erik...

These thoughts however were quickly interrupted as the scraping came to a halt, and cold silence followed.

…

Christine stared down into the torture chamber through the window from the 'viewing chamber' in shock. Erik lay perfectly still, crumpled on the floor. Monsieur Rikard on the other hand seemed in the best of humors she could imagine a man such as he could be.

"He literary showed me straight to his designs, in one way or another," Rikard said with a twinkle in his voice, "Though I honestly didn't expect the torture chamber to get to quickly-"

Hearing this Erik sprang up and glared into the eyes of his captor.

A man's head and soldiers came into view. His jaw was hard set and his eyes were a grey-blue. Rough skin was pulled taught over his cheekbones, and his entire face was stolid and professional. There was a look on his face of grim satisfaction and amusement, as if this mocking was the only thing he could possibly take pleasure in.

Erik didn't hide his face. In an instant he learned to loath his man, to loath it maybe even more than Raoul, with such an insulted hatred that he was almost _glad_ to show this man his face, to show him horror in it's purest form.

"This chamber has not infiltrated my senses, thank you," Erik said, barely masking his annoyance with a calm tone. "I simply was attempting to keep my sanity." The man's eyes flashed.

"I see," he said with a hint of sarcasm that couldn't have possibly peeved Erik more. "Either way, allow me to introduce myself- I am Rikard Olric, and your name, Erik, I already know." Erik nodded, still holding Olric's gaze, and turned his cheek slightly so more of his distorted side showed. "A bit forward about your horrors, aren't you?"

"I think I've learned look beyond physical appearance," Erik lied... Or was he really? Had he changed?

"I'm sure," Olric agreed with a hint of _right…_ behind his voice. "Well then I'm sure you'd be glad to see _this_!" he said, suddenly grabbing Christine's wrist and dragging her into view.

"Christine!" Erik cried, staring into the eyes of a terrified Christine. Immediately he turned his face away and tried to reach up to mask it, only to discover his hands were bound to his legs so he could not hide. Erik felt his chest tighten and his lungs cramp, as if filing with liquid. A vile cackling broke into the torture chamber.

"Beyond physical appearance indeed!" Olric laughed. For a moment, Erik was free of his panic as fury flooded into him, overflowing the dam of confusion, reaching for his lasso…

Where was it?

"Looking for this?" Olric snarled wickedly as suddenly the Punjab lasso plunged into the torture chamber on a hook. Erik felt himself break down, his body spazing and his mind in a state of mass hysteria as he lost the ability to distinguish speech from thought…

…

_My god my GOD! What is that thing?_

_Oh my lord!_

_Lucifer is returning to us…_

_Get OFF me! _

_In the form… _

_I am not the devil! Please let me explain!_

_Of…_

_A five year old._

_This kid is the devil?_

_It's a monster!_

_Hideous…. Deformed…. Disgusting…. Get this thing away from here! Get it out of my sight, get this devil out of here!_

_I'm not-_

_You must have him destroyed!_

_Send him back to hell!_

_No! no! Don't send me back there!_

_We found these in his residence._

_The torture chamber! _

_The torture chamber? That is what's in calligraphy? The rest of the measurements are in crude tally marks…_

_The sultana will like this, take him to the Shah-in-Shah!_

_Give me those back! My designs! Please monsieur-_

_Silence you little demon! You're devoid of rights until your mommy comes to save you! Why isn't she here anyway? Bet she hates you, you monster- who would want something like you? A filthy monstrosity… serves you right!_

The sultana flipped through the papers, a small smile crossing her features, of grim satisfaction, of amusement as if this was the only that pleased her.

_Lets through him in his little design shall we? Him and a friend, and maybe a few toys for them to play with._

_Please no- _

_Ha! Away with the monster!_

_The boy forced down the stairs into his torture chamber, then thrown into it, slammed against the wall._

_Here's a toy…_

_And here's a friend! _

_I am honored to kill this beast!_

_I am not a beast! Please I do not wish to die!_

_Silence you toad, you thing of devils blood! Your horrors should be wiped from the Earth and I have been given the chance to destroy it!_

_But I am no monster please-_

_Stop groveling you coward and fight him!_

_But I am no such beast!_

_Yes you are you horrible thing! Stop denying it and square with the fact you are not a man! No one wants you, not your mother nor the woman you love!_

_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH CHRISTINE!_

…

Christine stared at Olric in utter horror as he closed the window to the torture chamber. Even through the glass she could hear Erik screaming, cursing himself. _Send him back to hell! No! No! Don't send me back there!_ How could Olric _do_ this?

"What are you doing!" she screeched, "Stop this, he's having an attack! Please, if you have any heart at all, take him out of there!"

"You forget that he is a murderer, Christine," Olric replied, "All this is perfectly within the law."

"Stop this! You're killing him!"

"The moment he steps out of there, he is still condemned to death!" Olric hissed in delight. _He's ENJOYING this! My god!_

"But not like this!" she entreated, "If your soul is so black you cannot let him live, at least don't let him die like this!"

"_I shall not let him out of there_," He said darkly. Dim echoes of Erik's fit played in her ears. _You little demon!_ Hearing Olric's words, Christine realized who the real monster was.

…

I told you! You'll hate the next one even more . Please review and beg me to continue. I'm actually starting to like this…(oh my god YOU ARE WORSE THAN OLRIC!) (What can I do? I'm a writer )

after note: I'll explain why Erik is still deformed later... Alot later. Even though I know. Now back to homework for me.


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